


Wake Up Little Susie

by Midnight_Masquerade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Background!Destiel, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Dorkiness, F/F, Fluff, Offscreen!Cas, Unreasonably Early Classes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:53:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnight_Masquerade/pseuds/Midnight_Masquerade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The decision to take the 7am class is one Charlie regrets instantly. How the hell is she supposed to stay awake with all that information being thrown at her? Luckily there's a fellow student in the row behind her who's happy to help her stay alert. It would be ideal, were this Hannah Johnson not also disarmingly attractive. Charlie is so screwed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up Little Susie

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the tumblr prompt: You sit behind me and poke me every time I fall asleep during 9am lectures thank you can I buy you a coffee? AU.
> 
> Reviews and concrit always welcome.

Charlie had nothing against math. Without it most technology would have been left behind hundreds of years ago and she _definitely_ had nothing against technology. Math was okay. She understood math.

What she didn't understand was why anyone would want to contemplate anything more complicated than coffee before 7am.

When she left her dorm room on the edge of campus it was early enough that a chill still hung in the air and the light was pale and watery. She tried to pull her hoodie tighter around herself with one hand and almost dropped her books all over the sidewalk. Cursing, she paused to shift their weight, mourning the untimely death of her satchel that would have been so helpful to her right then – poor thing hadn't known what had hit it the day Charlie had switched from carting round graphic novels to text books. Charlie herself had had much the same reaction to finding out that half her lectures were first thing in the morning.

The hall was mostly when she arrived and the heaters were turned up full blast, which was a blessed relief for about five minutes. Then Charlie had settled in her chair with a notebook balanced on her lap and alright, it was a long way from the obscene comfort of her bed that morning but it was enough to have her head lolling and the sound around her fading into a humming white noise...

Something jabbed her hard in the back and she sprang to attention with a small, startled noise. A few people glanced in her direction, which was when she realized that the hall was now full, the door closed and the professor there and chatting away. Guiltily, she sat up straighter and tried to blink the heaviness from her eyes, hoping that she hadn't been snoring. From the sound of it the lecture had only just started – she uncapped her pen and focused her attention on the front of the hall, finally ready to pay attention.

She lasted about 24 minutes.

As warned, they weren't being eased into things, and just because Charlie was generally cool with the subject didn't mean she was prepared to try and wrap her brain around it at some ungodly early hour. Her professor had the kind of voice that rolled around her in waves and it was far, _far_ too easy to let her eyes fall closed again, the warmth of the room seeping into her brain and pushing aside the formulas and figures she'd been trying to cram in.

She was smart. Her knowledge of computers was practically all self-taught. She could afford to miss a small chunk of the very first class, she was sure she wouldn't miss anything. 80% at least. It would all be – ouch!

Something jabbed into her back for the second time and she shifted around in her seat. Her tiredness was making her irritable and seriously knocking her patience for people who thought they were funny.

The tiered seating meant that the first look of the person directly behind her was of blue jeans, sensible black shoes and primly crossed ankles. She tilted her head back slightly, some remark that was sure to be devastatingly witty lined up on her tongue and... frack. Her attacker was _pretty_. Her dark hair fell in gentle curls to her shoulders and her bangs ended just above bright blue eyes. She had a thin face, sharp nose and pale, smooth skin and all of a sudden Charlie's annoyance had run off somewhere and abandoned her in her hour of need.

The woman was staring placidly over Charlie's head to the front of the hall, expression neutral, as though she hadn't seen Charlie turning to confront her. Charlie huffed quietly and decided to let it go.

She ended up making a lot of notes during the rest of the lecture, ones she actually made sure to write legibly so she could understand them later, and by the time they were all dismissed she was feeling rather grateful to her assailant for not letting her fall asleep and miss it all. She gathered up her books and notes and turned to talk to her, only to find that she'd already disappeared. That was fine – she'd probably just been worried about Charlie's snoring getting in the way of the lecture, it was nothing. Maybe she'd be able to catch her next time.

Charlie tried very hard not to feel disappointed as she followed the crowd out of the doors.

* * *

A little over a week later she had a name to put to the face: Hannah Johnson. Not that she was – she hadn't been _spying_ or anything. She was just curious, was all. Hannah seemed to keep mostly to herself, not talking to anyone before the start of lectures and always leaving alone. Normally, Charlie's first instinct would be to feel sorry for her, but there was something about her that seemed so... self-contained. Like she was simply observing the rest of the world from some external point. Which wasn't to say she never spoke; she offered ideas in class often enough. Her voice was as calm and level as the rest of her. Charlie liked it a lot.

She had resigned herself to never really getting to know Hannah until she spotted her out of class, walking side by side with Castiel Novak – She didn't know him any better than Hannah, but she _was_ on familiar terms with his best friend. She retreated to the library and held on for what she thought was a very impressive fifty minutes before cracking and shoving her work onto her seat and leaving it behind.

Sure, maybe she could just _talk_ to Hannah. She could be incredibly smooth when she wanted, thank you very much. It was just... she just wanted to try and get a handle on her first. Make sure she wasn't a crazed psychopath or anything. That would be just her luck.

Singer's Auto Repairs was a fifteen minute walk from campus, a tiny garage surrounded by a wide field of broken vehicles. The small child in Charlie couldn't help but size it up for it's hide-and-seek potential and decide it showed some real promise. Three or four beers was probably all it would take to get Dean on board with the idea, if she ever wanted to follow through.

The bell above the door jangled as she entered, and a voice from beneath the register called, “Be right with you!”

Charlie grinned, hoisting herself half onto the counter so she could peer over the edge. “No rush.”

Dean twisted round until her was peering up at her, “Charlie. Don't tell me I gotta fix that rolling trash can of yours again.”

“Hey! That car has been totally loyal to me for years.”

“Yeah, when it's not trying to kill you with a backed-up coolant.”

“Big talk. Didn't your car need a complete do-over a few years back?”

“Don't drag Baby into this, that wasn't her fault.” Dean finally straightened up. There was a smudge of grease across his forehead, “Fuckin' truck drivers. Think they own the road.”

“Yeah, well, that's not why I'm here.” Charlie said, sensing that Dean was moments away from one of his epic rants, “Do you know Hannah Johnson?”

Dean frowned, “Cas's friend? Yea high, dresses like an accountant?”

“That's her.”

He shrugged, “Not really. Cas talks about her sometimes, she goes to the same church. Think she has a bit of a thing for him.”

Charlie deflated, the familiar sting of disappointment rolling in, “Really?”

“She seems pretty fond of him.” Dean said. He looked up, studying Charlie, “What's this about?”

“Oh, nothing,” she replied, too quickly, “I just...”

“Charlie.” His tone was a mix of accusatory and sympathetic, and kind of made her want to punch him.

“What? I'm just curious about her, that's all.”

“Like you were curious about Gilda?”

She glared at him. He knew that that was something of a sore spot with her – more for the damage her pride had sustained than anything, but she still didn't like talking about it. Anyway, this was _different_. She just wanted to know why this island of a woman would bother helping her out when she had no reason to.

She might not have met Castiel, but if Dean's accounts of him were true then Hannah clearly had good taste in friends. She was prepared to take all those accounts with a pinch of salt (Dean was the most ridiculous pining sap she had ever met in her life, and God was she waiting for the perfect moment to say that to his face) but he couldn't be _that_ far off the mark.

She was _not_ making excuses, she wasn't.

“Can you tell me anything else or not?” She asked.

Dean shook his head, “Sorry, man.”

“Alright. You need help with anything?”

“Don't you have assignments or something?”

“Exactly.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “I'm afraid we're quiet today.”

“Fine.” She pushed herself back from the counter, “Say hi to Sam for me.”

“You got it. Hey, Charlie?” He halted her in the doorway, “Be careful, yeah?”

“Bite me.”

* * *

She was quite seriously entertaining the notion of not getting out of bed at all. Yes, it was her fault, no one had forced her to stay up until three in the morning, but it had been the season finale of her favorite British drama and if she couldn't watch it live then it was perfectly reasonable to stay on the internet until she'd gathered every available scrap of information. But now it was the next morning and it was painful and why hadn't she cut her losses the moment she'd seen what time her classes were and found a different college?

By some miracle and more caffeine than could possibly be healthy she ended up in her seat in the lecture hall. She _tried_ to stay awake, she honestly did. But then the next thing she knew Hannah's foot was colliding with her back and the class was in full swing. It was practically a habit between them now, a ritual that went unacknowledged. Hannah had probably saved Charlie's ass on multiple occasions.

That particular class she had to jerk Charlie back to reality no less than five times. Charlie started wondering if there was a limit to how may times Hannah would bother, if eventually she would give up and leave her to her fate. The thought saddened Charlie more than it really should have done.

Just like always, Hannah gathered her things and was gone pretty much the moment they were all dismissed. Charlie wondered briefly if she was avoiding her. She decided almost immediately that it was a daft thought, but couldn't stop it niggling at her for a while afterward.

She had no idea what it was about the woman that had her so tangled up in knots. Normally she had no trouble at all flirting her way into a pretty girl's company – her scorecard was rivaled only by Dean's, but when it came to Hannah just the thought of trying to smooth-talk her sent her stomach fluttering.

She told herself that it was for the best. If Hannah really did have a thing for Castiel then she probably didn't swing Charlie's way and Charlie would just wind up embarrassing herself. Better to let it go before she ended up in too deep.

Of course, that was easier said than done when Hannah was putting herself back into her thoughts almost every class. And when she had such memorable eyes and elegant hands (Charlie had seen her once twirling her pen around her long fingers and had been distracted ever since by thoughts of what those hands could do to her).

A few days later she was back in her dorm room browsing online for coffee machines – anything to keep her awake during class so Hannah wouldn't have to – when her phone buzzed in her pocket:

_Dean:  
Asked cas about that hannah chick. he says shes totally badass_

Charlie frowned down at the message – Dean had _asked_ for her? She hit _reply_ and hovered over the keyboard, torn between a message of gratitude and the textual equivalent of flapping hands and frantic throat-slitting motions. Before she could make her mind up, another text came through.

_Dean:  
Alright maybe he didnt say exactly that but thats what he meant. point is hes clearly fond of her and cas isnt fond of anyone really_

Charlie could practically hear the bitter stab in his words and had a sudden urge to roll her eyes, even though no one was around to see it. She loved Dean but _lord_ he could be dense sometimes – though she'd never witnessed them herself she knew about the ridiculous staring matches the two of them were constantly getting into. And by “knew about” she meant “had heard many, many times from a certain bemused and frustrated little brother”.

_Charlie:  
I take it we trust cas's judgment?_

_Dean:  
Not always. but about this probably yes_

_but thats not really the point_

_Charlie:  
then whats the point?_

_Dean:  
cas was about to ask me about you_

_on a friends behalf obviously_

_um, no offense_

Charlie spent several long minutes staring at her phone screen. That... she couldn't be reading this right. She was misunderstanding, or Dean was misunderstanding, or something that made far more sense than the thoughts (the _glorious_ thoughts) currently going through her head.

_Charlie:  
???????_

_Dean:  
;)_

_Charlie:  
you said she had a thing for cas!!!_

_Dean:  
THOUGHT. i said i thought. clearly i was wrong_

Charlie suspected that this revelation called for more of a reaction than simply gawping at her phone screen but she suddenly seemed to have forgotten how to use her limbs. In her head she was reenacting the finale of every dumb 80s romcom she'd ever seen, despite the frantic warnings supplied by her brain that this didn't prove anything. But... Hannah had _asked_ about her. Who did that unless they were interested?

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her out of her mental whirlpool:

_Dean:  
Just fuckin ask her out already would you? i can literally hear you pining_

Wow. That was just rude.

_Charlie:  
Takes one to know one_

_Dean:  
What??_

_Charlie:  
Nothing :)_

She just had to approach this stealthily, that was all. She had to be subtle. Cunning. She could do all that. It would be just like playing Silent Swords but without the option of a do-over.

The picture of the coffee machine still showing on her laptop screen seemed to be smirking at her. She glared. “Shut up.” Stupid shiny douche.

Maybe all these early mornings were making her lose her mind.

* * *

The next class she was one of the first people to arrive. She got herself organized and settled, then messed everything up again by fidgeting incessantly. She didn't have a plan – after a lot of slightly drunken thought she'd decided that the classic “just wing it” couldn't steer her wrong. Only now, when it was too late to withdraw and regroup, was she remembering just how treacherous her mouth could be.

Hannah usually walked through the doors with exactly ten minutes to spare and took her seat, a quiet island in the middle of the weary chatter. But today 6.50 came and went with no sign of the brunette. Charlie started glancing at the clock every twenty seconds as if it could tell her what was going on.

By 6.57 she was starting to get worried. Alright, so it wasn't like she really _knew_ Hannah, but she was never this late. In fact, from what Charlie had been able to glean about her, her routines ran faultlessly. Where was she?

Two minutes later the professor walked in and started organizing his notes. Charlie went to chew her nails, only to realize she didn't really have any to chew on. She settled for tapping her pen against her leg instead – she had the feeling that if Hannah didn't show she'd lose her nerve and resign herself to admiring from a distance for the rest of the year.

God, she was even worse than Dean, wasn't she?

Just as the class had been called to attention the door inched open and Hannah was _finally_ there. She muttered her apologies to the professor as she scurried past and up the steps to her seat. She glanced up and caught Charlie's eye and _woah_ was that blue more intense than Charlie had realized. Caught off guard, she offered Hannah a tentative smile. Hannah was past her and sliding into her seat before she could either return or reject it and it wasn't until Charlie was settling back that she realized that her heart was hammering in her chest. _My God, Bradbury. All you did was smile at her, get a frakking grip_.

After all that emotional upheaval, she was for once able to stay awake, though only heard the odd snatches of the lecture. A very large and very dominant part of her brain was painfully aware of Hannah's presence just behind her – even though she knew she was imagining it, she couldn't shake the idea that she could feel the other woman's body heat pressing against her back.

Something kicked her gently between her shoulder blades and she jumped. She hadn't even been close to falling asleep, had she? She twisted round, staring up at Hannah, who seemed wholly focused, as usual, on the professor. Then, so subtly Charlie would have missed it had she not been staring right at her, she winked.

Charlie's brain tripped over itself. She – what – had Hannah meant that for her? She still wasn't looking at her, but a faint blush was curling at her cheeks under Charlie's gaze.

_Play it cool, Bradbury. For once in your life play it cool_.

She turned back around, watching the front of the hall without a clue what was going on up there. She made a show of gathering her hair together, collecting flyaway strands and shaking it out, an attempt at nonchalance that she suspected wasn't very convincing. She made herself sit for a few moments, pretending to be listening attentively. Then she tipped her head back and cast her gaze to the ceiling, hoping like hell that Hannah hadn't uncrossed her legs. She hadn't; the back of Charlie's head bumped into her foot and Charlie did a mental victory dance. She nudged her just enough to make it clear that the move had been deliberate, then leaned forward again.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the girl sitting next to her glance in her direction and roll her eyes, but that was the only notice that she received. She waited, barely daring to breathe.

Hannah kept her hanging for almost a full minute. Then Charlie heard her shift in her seat and what could only be the toe of her boot pressed into her spine directly above the back of her chair. Charlie couldn't quite keep the grin off her face – Operation Stealth Flirt was officially a go!

Somehow they managed to keep it up for the rest of the class. Charlie felt she was at a distinct disadvantage being the one in front and therefore much more limited in her options. At one point she was driven to scratching the back of her head with her pen, “accidentally” dropping it behind her and twisting to retrieve it. And, because all the stars were aligned and God was watching over her that day, Hannah was wearing cropped jeans and Charlie was able to oh-so-accidentally brush her fingers against her bare skin as she reached for her pen. There was a surprised intake of breath above her, and she looked up to find Hannah narrowing her eyes at her. It would have been totally intimidating if she hadn't so clearly been trying to fend off a smile. Charlie put on her best innocent face, whispered “Sorry,” and turned back to the front.

It was somehow the longest and the shortest hour of Charlie's entire existence, and their eventual dismissal had her warring between elation and disappointment. One of those emotions disappeared entirely when she looked up and realized Hannah was waiting for her on the end of her row.

She gathered her books as fast as she could without dropping them and went to join her, all of a sudden dizzy with nerves. Hannah's smile when she reached her was small and soft and genuine, “I understand that Castiel has already given me away.”

“Uh, yeah,” Charlie said, “I guess Dean ratted me out too, huh?”

“I'm afraid so.” Hannah glanced down, grinning, “But I don't think that has to be a bad thing.”

“No?”

“Move it ladies!” Their professor called from the front of the hall, slightly startling them both.

Hannah tilted her head in the direction of the doors, “May I walk you out?”

“Yeah, sure!” Charlie just about managed not to trip over her own feet as they headed down the stairs side-by-side. Hannah didn't say anything else, and Charlie realized that it would have been a very easy silence, were she not currently having a flailing meltdown over the fact that _Hannah Johnson was actually for real interested in her and had been asking people about her Dean really had been wrong how was this real life?_

Once they were through the doors into the still-cool air Charlie cleared her throat, “Uh, I should thank you. For waking me up so often, I mean.”

“It was no trouble.” Hannah smiled, “Though a few times I did consider letting you fall asleep.”

“Oh?”

“It would have given me a much better excuse to talk to you.”

“Oh.” Charlie realized that she must sound like an idiot and cursed herself. Thankfully, Hannah either hadn't noticed or didn't care – she was staring at the ground a few feet away, one hand fiddling with the strap of her bag with those goddamn distracting fingers. Charlie swallowed and made herself focus on Hannah's face. “Well,” she said, “I guess I've had a good enough excuse this whole time.”

Hannah glanced at her then looked away, hair falling in front of her face, “You didn't need one. I'd have gladly spoken to you about anything, only... I wasn't sure you wanted to talk to me.”

_Woah_. “No – I mean, I totally wanted to. I didn't know if _you_ did.”

Hannah chuckled, the action wrinkling her nose in a criminally adorable way. She stopped walking and turned to face Charlie, “I'm not usually this trepid.”

“Me either.”

“Perhaps we should start again.” She stuck out a hand, “Hello, I'm Hannah Johnson.”

Charlie returned her grin as they shook hands, “Charlie Bradbury.”

“Nice to meet you Charlie.” Hannah said. Charlie decided instantly that she loved the way Hannah said her name: it was earnest and soft, and needed to be heard many more times.

Knowing that Hannah had been as nervous about this as her actually soothed Charlie. She could feel her old bravado starting to slip back in. She put on an air of mock-formality, “So, Hannah, are you enjoying the class so far?”

Hannah tipped her head to one side – playing along, considering the question. “I am.” She said, “It's nice to be challenged for once. Are you?”

“Well I _would_ ,” Charlie lent forward as if relaying a secret. Hannah mirrored her, leaving very little space between them, and Charlie almost lost what she was saying. Hannah's mouth was thin and delicate, and Charlie didn't have to test the theory to know that it would slot perfectly against her own. Not that that meant there was no point trying. Ideas were no good without evidence, after all. That was just science.

She'd been saying something. Oh, right. “I _would_ , but it's so early. It can get a bit hazy, you know?”

“No, really?” Hannah asked drily, and Charlie cuffed her playfully on the arm.

“Hey, it's hard, okay? Doze off for one equation and that's it, game over.”

“Perhaps you need someone to catch you up.” Hannah suggested.

Charlie grin was wider than it had been all day, “I _do_ need someone to catch me up! If only there was someone willing to help me, say, over coffee? In like, five minutes time?”

“If you don't mind me saying,” Hannah said, ducking her head and looking at Charlie through her bangs, “This seems to be a recurring problem for you, you might not realize what you've missed right away. You should make sure someone has your number. Just in case.”

“That is a _very_ good idea.” Charlie agreed, and now they were just kind of grinning stupidly at each other but Charlie wasn't going to raise any objections if Hannah wasn't. Belatedly, she realized that she was shivering, her thin jacket not enough for standing still in the chill air. She could happily have endured had Hannah not noticed as well.

“Perhaps we should... continue this somewhere warmer,” she suggested and Charlie nodded her agreement. Hannah turned to lead them away, which was when Charlie had the further realization that she was being totally awkward _anyway_ and that apparently didn't stop Hannah being into her (holy _shit_ ) so it wasn't like she would ruin this entirely if she acted on a long-burning impulse (it _was_ long-burning it had been _weeks_ by her estimation and that kind of patience was reserved only for Marvel films and _that_ was only because she had no other choice).

She reached forward and snagged Hannah's sleeve, tucking a lock of her own hair behind her ear. Hannah turned back with a questioning look and yeah, Charlie wasn't going to be able to drag her eyes away from Hannah's lips until she got this out of the way with. Probably not afterward either, but it was worth a shot.

Her hand slid down Hannah's arm until their hands were intertwined and Hannah's answering smile made her heart staccato in her chest.

“Um...” She tried for cocky and landed somewhere worryingly close to bashful, “Mind if I test a theory?”

 


End file.
